


You Can't Handle The Tripe

by cuddyclothes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Mighty Good Eatin', restaurant, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 09:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddyclothes/pseuds/cuddyclothes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wants to help his friend Castiel have new experiences.  Today's experience is dim sum.  Anyone for deep fried squid tentacles?</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can't Handle The Tripe

Castiel stared at the woman pushing the metal cart.  She spoke gibberish.

Dean pointed at plates of steamy goo, nested in baskets.  “The roast pork buns, the chicken feet in black bean sauce, that’s it for now, honey.”  He leaned over and picked up a blobby white “pork bun.”  “Cas, now that you’re human, you need to learn about the finer things.  Dim sum is one of the best ways to pig out there is.  You eat a bunch of stuff, and then all of a sudden you’re so full you want to puke.” 

Dim Sum Palace was only a city block away from where Castiel had gotten his tattoo.  But it was a whole other world.  Everything was gold and red, including the gold cloth covered chairs with red tassels.  The women pushing the carts wore red aprons trimmed with gold.  The tablecloths were so white they almost shone.

“Yes, sounds appetizing.”  Truth be told, the strange objects on the plates smelled excellent.  He picked up a fork, speared a chicken foot and started to eat it from the fork. Once the meat was in his mouth, his stomach bucked.  This was not something he understood, but his body was clearly saying NO.  So he dropped it from his mouth to the plate.

“Dude!”

“My mouth disliked it, Dean.”

“What about the rest of you?”

“The rest of me appears to agree.  It was—“ he searched for a word.  “Slimy.”

“Chicken feet are supposed to be slimy.  It’s part of the experience.”

“An experience I don’t care to partake in.  Is that pork bun slimy?”

“No.”  Dean shook his head. “Your _mouth_ disliked it...”

Castiel gingerly imitated Dean, taking a white pork bun out of the steamer and biting into it.  It was so tasty he put the whole thing in his mouth.  Thick white dough, with a sweet pork flavor in the middle.

“Thish ish delicious.”

“Excellent!”  Dean stopped another woman pushing a heavy metal cart.  “I want the spareribs, and those roast beef buns.”  

“Yes.”  The waitress put the steamer and plate on the table, then red-stamped the restaurant check.  Dean flipped over the paper and checked off several items on a long list. “Fried beef dumplings, salt and pepper friend chicken wings, and what the hell, deep fried squid tentacles for my friend here.” He handed her the paper.

Cas eyed the food warily.  “Dean, don’t you think we should have some sort of...roughage?”

Dean gave him the side eye. “Hm?” Like a nasty kid, he slurped along the side of a chicken foot. Cas winced.

“A vegetable?”

“Cas, humans don’t need vegetables.  Have you ever seen me eat a vegetable? Cole slaw doesn’t count.”

Castiel had to think.  No, he had never seen Dean ingest anything green.  But Sam was always eating salads...then why was he so much bigger than his brother?  Wasn’t protein supposed to build size and strength?  Nothing made sense where human bodies were concerned.  His body wanted another of those pork buns.  There had been three in the dish, so he snatched the last one with a happy noise of triumph, then shoved it in his maw. Dean watched him affectionately.

“Watching you learn to eat is like watching a baby taking its first steps, Cas.  I’m proud of you.”  He snatched something off a cart.  “Now, eat this.” 

It was a bowl of noodles.  Castiel didn’t see what the big deal was, so he picked up a noodle with his fingers and dropped it into his mouth.  

ICK!  Chewy, tough...in a word, ick.  He spat it out.  Dean laughed and clapped.

“I knew it!” he crowed. “ _Nobody_ likes tripe!  Even you!”

Annoyed, Cas picked the piece of chewed tripe off the tablecloth.  He ate it.  Even though that entailed a tremendous amount of chewing and ignoring his taste buds trying to escape.  Tripe had little tiny tripe grass blades that felt disgusting between his teeth.  He swallowed.

“I—I liked it,” he gasped.

Dean leaned forward.  “Enough to eat _all_ of it?”

This was a challenge.  Cas narrowed his eyes.  “Yes.”  He was so going to regret this, but no way in heaven was Dean going to win.

Trying not to gag, Cas slowly ate the tripe, chewing and swallowing with difficulty.  At the same time he had to watch Dean chowing down on spare ribs, pork dumplings, and roast beef buns. Occasionally Dean favored him with a big grin between bites.

When the cart came around again, Dean snatched another bowl— _oh, no, no, no_ —

If only Dean knew that this was the biggest test of their friendship since Naomi.  Not only that, Cas wasn’t even half-full and he wanted to puke.


End file.
